


The Five Times Harry Didn’t Know What a Flower Meant + The One Time He Did (by Fall Out Boy)

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, fluffy crack, valentine's day cliches yayyy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6008686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Valentine's Day 5 + 1 flower shop AU; basically the fluffiest, most cliche thing I've ever written in which Harry is a bit too much of a spy and Eggsy speaks the language of flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times Harry Didn’t Know What a Flower Meant + The One Time He Did (by Fall Out Boy)

**First**

Only a poor spy would be unable to tell when they were being followed and Harry Hart is anything but a poor spy. The guy who’s trailing him has been his shadow since he stepped out of the Kingsman tailor shop; bad news for him as that means he most likely knows his profession. He forgoes the cab ride home in favor of walking. Ditching him seems more likely on the streets than in a car. 

The crowd swallows him up and he makes his way deftly through it, scanning for side streets or alleys that he can duck down and give his stalker the slip. Occasionally Harry will throw a glance back over his shoulder, making the move as casual as he can. Every time he does he catches a glimpse of the man, his ginger hair distinctive, making him stand out. At least Harry knows he’s a novice. Anyone more experience would have learned to disguise such a telling characteristic. 

Still, while the man might not be a threat he _is_ an irritant and Harry would much prefer to get rid of him sooner rather than later. As it appears his current tactic of wandering through the streets aimlessly isn’t doing much he decides to switch it up. He resolves to duck into the next shop he comes across. Quickening his pace he weaves deftly through the crowd, refusing to look back and see his stalker’s position. 

He spies a neon open sign and veers towards the door, side-eyeing the people nearby. The shock of ginger hair is bobbing forwards, turning this way and that. Good. Harry slips inside, tugging the door shut behind him and relaxing slightly. He’ll wait a bit, give him some time to give up and move in and until then he’ll amuse himself with - for the first time he takes stock of his surroundings - flowers, it seems. 

There’s an abundance of them; the shop seems to be trying to cram as many as possible into every available space. There’s the slight sound of chattering coming from behind one arrangement and either this shop has engineered the first talking flowers or there’s someone else in here. Working on the assumption that it’s the latter, Harry steps around the arrangement. 

A desk comes into a view, spilling over with papers and scattered pens, fallen petals providing some spots of color. Behind the desk stands a young man, deep green apron tied around his waist, matching cap on his head. He’s got a phone pressed to his ear, is chatting animatedly with whoever’s on the other end of it. His eyes flick up when Harry comes into view and he nods his chin at him. “Hang on a tick, Jamal, got a customer… No, I ain’t jokin’, some people actually want flowers an’ shit… Fuck you.” He presses the phone to his chest, holding up one finger on his free hand. “Be right with you, bruv.” 

Harry nods at him, one eyebrow twitching up when he goes right back to talking on the phone as if the interruption had never happened. It’s no wonder the shop is packed with flowers; apparently they never sell. They are objectively pretty, that much he can see, not that he really has a need for flowers. He’s about to turn and head back out of the shop (or at least see if Ginger is still lurking around) when there’s the click of a phone hanging up. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the boy says, giving him a sheepish grin. He leans his forearms on the desk, shifting forwards to rest his weight on them. “What are you lookin’ for?” 

Time to come up with a suitable lie. “I’m interested in someone.” Well, that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to say. He’d never used that as a cover story in his life but this boy’s (Gary, if the name on his tag was anything to go by) eyes seem earnest, like he genuinely wants to help him with any problem he might has. So inventing a problem it is. “They aren’t… aware of it, but I know they’re rather interested in botany so I thought flowers might be the perfect way to go about getting their attention. The only problem is I don’t know anything about this sort of thing.” Affecting the air of a slightly hopeless lover, Harry rubs the back of his neck, glancing over at Gary. 

His brow furrows and his eyes narrow, lips pooching out slightly as if he’s actually lending this some serious consideration. He’s quiet for such a long time Harry’s about to ask if he remembers what he’s even thinking about when he straightens up with a snap of his fingers. “Yellow chrysanthemum,” he says, slipping out from behind the desk and disappearing into the aisles of the shop. 

Fighting the urge to mutter ‘yellow chrysanthe-what?’ Harry trails after him, not at all sure what they’re even looking for. 

They come to a stop in front of a bouquet of bright yellow flowers and Eggsy turns to face him. “Yellow chrysanthemums,” he repeats. “They mean secret admirer. Good first step, yeah?” 

Yes, Harry imagines, they would be for someone actually looking to impress. “I’ll take them.” A genuine smile splits across Gary’s face this time and, Harry has to admit, it looks good on him. “Thank you, Gary.”

The smile is replaced by a wrinkled nose and a gentle shake of the head. “Nah, don’t go by Gary. Call me Eggsy,” he says. “An’ it’s kinda my job, bruv, you don’t have to thank me.” 

Harry picks up the bouquet and they wander back to the counter, ‘Eggsy’ taking his place behind it while he digs out his wallet. The very tips of their fingers brush as he hands him the money and he gives him a polite nod goodbye. 

“Good luck…” 

“Harry.”

“Good luck, Harry.” 

“Thank you, Eggsy.” 

**Second**

He never intends to come back to the shop. He doesn’t even think he remembers where it is; it wasn’t like he was intentionally paying attention to where he was going that first time, but he finds himself back in front of the doors a second time completely by accident. 

Ginger is back to it only a week later and the trick worked well enough the first time that he decides to try it again, certain that this will be the last time. Repeating it is risky enough; there’s no way he’s going to try it a third time. But he picks up his pace and ducks back through the doors, a small bell jingling. He glances up in surprise; that hadn’t been there the last time he’d come in. 

“Gotta go, someone just came in,” he hears from behind the arrangement still obscuring his view from the counter. Well, that at least explained the reason for the bell. “Be right with you!” he hears at a slightly louder volume followed by a couple footsteps, a loud thud, and a curse. 

Curiosity overwhelms him and he rounds the corner to see Eggsy hopping around on one foot, the other cradled in his hands, glaring over at a stack of boxes. “Fuckin’ inventory,” he mutters. Then he seems to lose control of himself, hops a bit too far backwards to recover and yelps as he frantically tries to regain his balance. 

Harry lurches forwards, catching him under the armpits before he can hit the ground. 

Eggsy glances up at him, startled. “Oh… hey, Harry.” 

“Hello, Eggsy,” he says, one corner of his mouth quirking up into an amused smile. He hauls him back onto his feet, setting him upright. 

Eggsy gingerly sets his foot back on the ground, wincing slightly, but deciding it isn’t bad enough to necessitate more hopping. “How’d you do with the chrysanthemums?” 

Harry’s brow furrows momentarily and he almost asks what he’s going on about when he remembers his cover story. “Oh, right. He loved them.” It isn’t until Eggsy perks up a little that he realizes he’s said he instead of they. He guesses there are worse ways to come out to strangers and Eggsy doesn’t seem to mind, just nods in affirmation. 

“Thought he would,” he says, a slight note of triumph in his voice. “Now we just gotta let it slip out that you’re the secret admirer, yeah?” 

Harry blinks at him for a second. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d have to buy another batch of flowers when he came back in here, but he supposes it only makes sense. Besides, the first bouquet had been a nice addition to his table for the few days it had lasted. He’d forgotten to water it after a couple days and it had died pretty quickly after that; might as well buy another. Nodding, he lets Eggsy lead him back into the aisles again. 

Eggsy scans the array as he goes along, not seeming to be heading for anything in particular, more musing as if he doesn’t know quite what he’s looking for. He walks past a cluster of pink roses (Harry can actually recognize those) and almost immediately backpedals, halting in front of them. “Fuck, yeah, these are perfect,” he says, lifting out the bouquet and holding it out to him. 

Accepting it, Harry brings it to his nose, inhaling. They smell nicer than the chrysanthemums did, at least. “And what do these mean?” 

“Couple of things,” Eggsy explains, head cocked slightly to one side. “Can mean ‘forever’ but they can also mean,” and here he pauses, smirking, “admiration. Perfect way to show you’re the admirer.” He ends with a sharp nod and looks expectantly over at Harry. 

“That does sound perfect,” he concedes and watches another one of those smiles flit over Eggsy’s face. 

As they head back to the register Harry asks, “How do you know so much about this, anyways?” 

Eggsy doesn’t look at him as he’s ringing him up, shrugging one shoulder. “Went through this sort of thing myself once,” he admits, glancing up at him under his eyelashes after a short pause, gaze almost immediately flicking back to the counter. “Didn’t work out. But I’m sure it will for you,” he hastily tacks on, chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. You seem like a very charming young man.” He’s not even done asking himself what the fuck that was about when Eggsy shrugs one shoulder. 

“See ya later, Harry.” 

No, he won’t. 

**Third**

 Or so he’d thought. Harry emerges on his doorstep one morning to a curious thing. Bending down, he picks up the small tree branch, peppered with tiny, round, yellow flowers. He glances around but he can’t see anything or anyone, no clues lying around as to who could have left this or why. There isn’t any tree nearby with flowers like these which, he reasons, means someone left them deliberately. 

They have to symbolize something, but he’s at a loss for what that could be. And while _he_ might not know the reasoning behind it, he does know someone who probably will. 

He pauses outside the shop, for once not having to skirt inside before he can be noticed. He cuts a strange figure, lingering on the pavement in his bespoke suit, clutching a tree branch in one hand. Eventually, he pushes the door open, jingling bell signaling his arrival. There’s no abrupt end of a phone conversation this time or curse as Eggsy walks into a stack of boxes. In fact, there’s nothing but silence. 

It’s slightly unnerving and Harry can’t help but tense slightly as he makes his way past the arrangement, bringing the counter into view. He immediately relaxes, letting out a soft snort of amusement.

Eggsy is sprawled over the counter, mouth slightly open, snoring softly. 

Harry clears his throat, but his sleeping form hardly stirs, just twitches a little. “Eggsy,” he says, but all that earns him is a brief interruption in the snores before he’s back at it. Sighing, he reaches out with the tree branch, prodding him in the shoulder until he jerks up, startled one of the papers sticking to the side of his face. 

“Huh, wha-?” he asks, blinking rapidly in an attempt to wake himself up. He paws at the paper, ripping it away and staring down at it in confusion before glancing up at Harry. “Ha… rry. Was I asleep?” he asks. “Need more flowers for this person of yours? I’ve been thinkin’ about about couple ways you could go from here.” 

Harry shakes his head, cutting him off by holding up the branch. “No, unfortunately, that didn’t work out. I’m actually here to ask about this.” He gives it a small shake, setting the flowers swaying. “It was left on my doorstep this morning. I thought you might know why.” 

Eggsy holds his hand out for it and Harry passes it over, thinking that he must only be imagining the slightly pleased look on Eggsy’s face. It only takes him a quick glance to ascertain what it is before he looks up at Harry with a sort of strange smile. It’s a grin, that’s sure enough, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, this is… um, it’s acacia,” he says.

When it appears that there’s isn’t any more forthcoming Harry tilts his head slightly to the side. “…meaning?” he prompts after a moment or two.

“Secret or concealed love,” Eggsy explains. “An’ actually… I think I might know who this is from?” 

Harry is a bit taken aback by that. “You do? How?” Hell, he doesn’t have any idea who it could be; he’d half assumed it was left at his house entirely by accident and had really been meant for someone else. 

Eggsy shrugs one shoulder, pushing the branch back over to him almost sullenly. “Some bloke was in here yesterday after you left, askin’ about somethin’ like this. Might be you have a secret admirer too, I guess.” 

“Do you know who he was?” Harry asks, only having grown more confused. 

But Eggsy only shakes his head. “You’d be more likely to know him than me, bruv. He was kinda tall, blue eyes, had this real bright ginger hair…” 

That’s more than enough to catch Harry’s attention. “And he was here, he came in here?” he asks, heart beating a little faster. 

Now it’s Eggsy’s turn to look bemused. “Yeah, said that, didn’t I? But I was right, then, you do know him?” 

Harry’s mind is racing. The man must have seen him go into the shop after all, thought Eggsy had something to do with him. ‘Secret love’ Eggsy had said. The full implications of that hit him. He thought Harry and Eggsy were involved. The warning was clear: Eggsy was in danger and he’d put him there. “Eggsy, I need you do me a favor,” he says, tone deadly serious. 

Eggsy shifts uncomfortably at the sudden change in him, leaning back a bit. “What is it?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly. 

“I need you to close up early today, as soon as I leave. Go home as quickly as you can and don’t get here until opening tomorrow. Understand?” He’s aware of how illogical all of this must seem, but Eggsy was entirely innocent; he couldn’t let him get hurt on his behalf.

“Uh… sure,” Eggsy concedes. It’s not like he gets many customers anyways and Harry seems entirely too passionate about this for it to be some sort of joke. “Leave when you do, don’t get here early tomorrow, got it. But you mind telling me why?” 

Harry just shakes his head, snatching the branch up and turning to head out of the shop. “Just trust me on this. Please,” he adds, glancing back. 

Eggsy gazes back at him for a second before nodding and reaching to untie his apron. 

Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry exits the shop. 

**Fourth**

Harry wakes up to more flowers on his doorstep. He snatches them up, wanting to just toss them away somewhere, not even think about them, just keep their damn meaning a secret, but he figures he should know. 

Even he can recognize a tulip when he sees one, and this time he turns to Merlin for assistance. “Merlin,” he mutters into his glasses, bringing the flower up to his nose to disguise the movement of his lips. “I need you to look up what violet tulips symbolize.” He knows it’s an odd request, even by Kingsman’s standards, but the magician doesn’t question it. 

Harry starts off towards the flower shop, well before he expects it to be open. Stakeouts work better when nobody knows you’re there, after all. Halfway there, Merlin comes back on with a quiet, “Faithfulness.” 

Gritting his teeth, Harry takes up a relatively sheltered position across the street from Eggsy’s shop. He’s half-hidden behind a pillar, with a fairly good view of the street; nobody’s going to spot him unless they’re looking for him. Then he waits. 

Patience is something he’s gotten used to over his years at Kingsman, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Time crawls by slowly, minute by minute, until at last he can see Eggsy approaching the shop. The younger man glances around briefly before unlocking it and going inside, disappearing from view. 

It’s another few hours until Ginger appears. Harry makes his move, striding across the street in record time, hand securing around the man’s wrist just as he’s reaching for the handle of the shop. He feels a brief lance of satisfaction shoot through him at the flash of surprise that crosses Ginger’s face, quickly overtaken by fear as his grip really locks down. “I don’t know who you are, or who you work for,” he hisses, keeping his voice low enough so as not to disturb the few pedestrians around them. “But you will not lay on that boy. Whatever you _think_ he means to me, you’re mistaken and I think you and I would both appreciate it if you left him alone. Do I make myself clear?” 

Ginger doesn’t seem to have much control over himself, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, wide-eyed with fear. Definitely a novice. 

“Harry?” A voice cuts through his anger and Harry glances up to see Eggsy looking between him and his captive, clearly hesitant to interrupt. “What the hell are you doin’?” 

Harry glares at Ginger, tugging him forward a step. “I think I’ll let _him_ explain,” he snaps. 

The man seems to find his voice then, albeit it weak and reedy. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, swear down. Was just gonna scare you a little, it ain’t even a real blade, just some collapsible thing I bought at a party. But you can have him, I don’t want him no more,” he babbles, looking up at Harry fearfully. 

That… was not at all what Harry was expecting. “Excuse me?” 

“That’s what this is all about, right? Them flowers I sent you. Thought you musta liked flowers cause you kept goin’ into his shop an’ all an’ I thought maybe leavin’ you some would be a way to tell you that I liked you. Had to scare your boyfriend off first, though, didn’t I?” He tugged limply, trying to free himself from Harry’s grip. 

Fucking hell. Some spy he was after all. Immediately, he released Ginger and the man scuttled off, glancing back over his shoulder as if terrified he was going to find Harry in pursuit. Swallowing past the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, Harry glanced over at Eggsy who was glaring at him, arms folded over his chest. 

“You owe me one fuck of an explanation.” 

**Fifth**

And one fuck of an explanation had gone anything but well. He couldn’t very well come out and say that he’d suspected some jealous prick with a crush and a stage knife was actually a high-order spy attempting to kidnap Eggsy and use him as leverage against Harry. So he’d miserably admitted there had never been someone he was trying to get in the first place but assured him that he couldn’t tell him anything more. 

Eggsy had slammed the door in his face and locked it, the little open sing twirling to closed. 

Harry knew it shouldn’t bother him. He didn’t really know Eggsy all that well and he had plenty of other things to focus on. But he couldn’t get him out of his head. His smile would flash through his mind at the most inopportune moments, the way his eyes matched his apron would push that out, the jaunty angle of his cap and the easy way he called Harry ‘bruv’ following straight after. 

Occasionally he would stroll past the shop again, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Once or twice he managed to catch a glimpse of Eggsy through the window but it was rare and he always hurried along anyways, not wanting to be caught nosing around. He needed some sort of closure. He needed to apologize. 

The familiar bell dings as he steps inside the shop. There’s a familiar sounding chatter and Harry takes a deep breath, stepping around to the counter before Eggsy has a chance to call anything out. And freezes. Eggsy’s head swivels to face him as does the head of the dark-skinned boy standing next to him. “Ah. You must be Jamal,” Harry says, clearing his throat. 

“An’ you must be posh prick,” Jamal greets him. 

Eggsy flushes at that, elbowing Jamal in the side. “What do you want, Harry?” he mutters, ignoring the scandalized look his friend is giving him. 

Harry burrows his hands into his pockets, very aware of both sets of eyes trained on him. “I had a bit of a falling out with someone and I was wondering if there was a flower that could help me apologize.” 

Eggsy stares at him and, for a moment, Harry doesn’t think he’s going to do anything, just keep staring until he gets uncomfortable and leaves. Then he sighs and jerks his head to the side. “Follow me. Be right back, Jamal.” He walks towards the very back of the store, not looking back to see if Harry’s behind him. 

Doing his best to ignore Jamal, Harry sidles past him, following after Eggsy. They stop in front of a pretty long-stemmed thing with small white flowers dotted along it neatly. 

“Lily of the valley,” Eggsy says without enthusiasm. 

Harry picks it up carefully. “And what exactly does it mean?” 

Eggsy reaches up to run one of his fingers along the petals of a flower. “It means ‘I’ve been a right wanker who took way too fuckin’ long to come apologize’,” he mutters, eyes edging up to meet Harry’s. 

Harry only nods. “I’ll take it.” 

They head back to the counter only to find Jamal gone, a fact for which Harry is exceedingly grateful. He’d been getting somewhat tired of the holes being drilled into his head. Harry sets the flower down on the counter, handing over the amount due before walking towards the door. 

“You forgot your flower, Harry,” Eggsy calls after him. 

“No, I didn’t,” Harry says, glancing over his shoulder. Then he walks out, door swinging closed behind him. 

**Plus One**

What better day to buy flowers than Valentine’s Day? Harry thinks. The answer ‘literally any of the other 364 days of the year’ comes to mind when he steps into a shop full of customers for once. 

Eggsy is nowhere to be seen, lost somewhere amidst the sea of people all trying to procure some token of affection for their significant others. He does spot, however, one familiar face. It appears Eggsy has called in Jamal to help and the man sees him nearly at the same time he discovers him. 

“How’s it goin’, posh prick?” he asks, wandering over with a smug grin. It’s stuck as a nickname even though Jamal no longer thinks of him a prick, not after Eggsy had forgiven him and they’d started sort-of dating. It was really more of an occasionally went places together and made out thing, not a we’re officially an item thing, but Jamal had warmed up to him anyways. 

Harry searches fruitlessly for a dark green cap in the sea of humanity, but he can’t see anything. 

“Lookin’ for Eggsy?” Jamal guesses and Harry nods. “C’mon, then.” 

They plunge into the crowd, Harry following after Jamal who somehow seems to know where he’s going in all this. They reach a display overflowing with red roses, several customers clustered about, all trying to snag a bouquet. Eggsy stands in the midst of them, desperately scribbling down purchase records and accepting payments. He glances up at the sound of Jamal calling his name, eyes landing on Harry a second later. 

Jamal squirms his way to Eggsy’s side, snatching the pencil and pad of paper from him, gesturing over towards Harry. “Go on, then, I’ll take care of this lot,” he offers. 

Eggsy gives him a look full of gratitude, weaving his way over to Harry’s side. “Thank god, I was about to mental,” he sighs, pushing them over to the side, right up next to one of the red rose displays. “Fuckin’ hell, I ain’t ever seen this place so busy.” 

Harry hums his agreement, reaching over Eggsy’s head to carefully pluck a rose from one of the displays. He brought it down, inhaling its scent briefly before offering it out towards Eggsy. “For you,” he says. 

With a look of amusement, Eggsy takes it from him, shaking his head slightly. “Harry, a red rose means-” 

“Love,” Harry interrupts. “A red rose means I love you.” 

Eggsy glances up him abruptly. He blinks once, mouth opening as if he wants to say something and closing again a second later. It opens a second time but Harry leans in, capturing it in a kiss. It’s long and sweet, and after he pulls away it takes Eggsy a second to open his eyes again. 

“I love you too, Harry.”


End file.
